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James Buchanan: My Rants and Ramblings Across the Internet

Sunday, May 03, 2015

Requiem in Leather (Deputy Joe Book 4)Coming May 15, 2015 from MLR Press

The wilds of San Francisco are a long way from the rural-Utah beat of Deputy Joe Peterson.

Kabe’s former Dom, the man who protected him in prison, dies and Kabe, along with Jack’s other boys, returns to The City to pay their respects. Joe wonders where he fits in after seeing Kabe at home, with the family and friends he left behind. When he agrees to help track down one of the missing boys he can’t understand Kabe’s aversion to his getting involved.

The emotions dredged up by the search, and Kabe’s slipping back into his old out-of-control life style, pitch them along like the rough surf Kabe has so missed riding. If they can find the balance between love, respect and their lifestyle, they may just be able to discover a place Joe thought was closed to him forever.

Excerpt:

Kabe’s friends drug him out to see some other folks for coffee, but they’d come back around sometime before nine for a late dinner. That left me and Bill by our lonesome for a bit. We’d started talking about the rest of the week, and he’d mentioned the fair on Sunday, Dore Alley, and asked what I was planning on wearing. When I’d said jeans and a T-shirt, he’d rolled his eyes like Kabe was wont to as he herded me back to the guest room.

Now Bill sat on the edge of the bed. “Bones would have liked you to have them.” We’d started the business of finding something for me to wear Sunday.

I put the box I’d pulled out of the top of the closet next to him on the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Look,” Bill rattled the box, “these things have been collecting dust in my closet for a while. Here and there, I’ve passed on some of Bones’ gear that he’d have wanted people to have. I gave most of his clothes to charity. This stuff, well it’s not exactly what you put in the donation box at Out of the Closet.” Hesitant, as if he weren’t quite ready to face what he’d packed away, Bill took hold of the top. Then he swallowed and pulled it off. “And his leathers, well, they’re more personal, not something I’d want to just hand over to some poser who wants to prance around and look hot.” He set the lid on the pillows and then pointed towards the stuff packed inside, indicating I should take a look. “Bones loved Kabe. Said the most horrible things about him, but if someone needed to go bail that twink ass out of a bar at three in the morning, Bones would be out the door before I hung up the phone. Bones loved Kabe like he was his own. And Kabe loves you. Bones would have liked you…probably would have shown you the ropes.”

I shot him a sideways glance before turning to paw through the contents of the box. “The ropes?” Couldn’t quite figure out what was in there that would be proper wear.

“From what Kabe’s told me, what I’ve seen of your personality…you walk in the room, you don’t even have to say anything, and all the subby boys start to whimper. You may not ever do clubs or events, but you are one of us.” Didn’t know what us he meant. Although, I had started getting the sense that it weren’t about the props…it was about the people you knew who fancied the same thing. Like church in a way; community from common experience and ideals.

He pulled out a strap of something with handcuffs hanging off the end. “Everything I really wanted to keep, I already have in my room. So anything you find in there that you want; take it.” With that, he dropped the bit back in with the rest. “Even if you don’t know what to do with it, but you like it…yours.”

I shrugged and kept rummaging through it all. Lots and lots of straps, some with studs or chains. All that flash seemed gaudy, pretentious somehow. “Kabe just wants me to not stand out, I think.” I muttered it kinda under my breath. Don’t know, guess that was just me…big ol’ country mouse in the city. I’da just left it be, were it me, but Kabe wanted it. I don’t think there was nothing I wouldn’t give that boy if’n he asked. Scared the daylights outta me every time I realized that. If he’d said, ‘Joe, go jump off that there building and show me you love me.’ I’da likely done it. “He’d like me to fit in. You know, with his whole tribe.”

I chewed on that bit for a while. Bill left me at my explorations, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching without watching as I pulled things out and put ‘em back. Most felt like horse tack, thick and kinda raw leather. Didn’t like those much. Picked a few things out that seemed things Kabe might appreciate, and that I sorta recognized off Internet pictures: a harness thing that might serve on a mule, a leather jock strap…not too keen on those or wearing one that’d held some other guys dick…muscle man arm bands.

Mom said sometimes you gotta wear something just ‘cause it makes you smile and that sure did. ‘Course she was talking about her ol’ pink coat not a black leather arm band near three inches wide with a big ol’ hook lock to keep it together…I don’t know why that one, of all of them, amused me, made me smile. But it did and I set it over to the side by Bill’s knee. Still, I was getting kinda frustrated though, lots’a toys, but nothing I cared for much.

Just didn’t want to disappoint Kabe.

Then down in the bottom of that box my fingers found something, all rolled up, not folded. Figured I petted it for all of a minute before my brain registered that I wanted it. Didn’t even know what that smooth fine grain grabbing at the ridges on my fingertips was. Almost cool, drew out the warmth of my skin as I ran my hand over it. Nice as any guy’s prick in how it just slid under my palm, warming up as I stroked it. Finally, I pulled it out of the case, find out what I wanted so bad that it made me want to go find Kabe and bend him over before I even laid eyes on it.

Almost surprised myself there as I shook what I found out. A pair of jeans. Black leather jeans. Not new shiny leather, but what had all the creases of time and wear etched into ‘em. Balled ‘em into my hands and brought ‘em up to my face. That smell. Lord, nothing smelled quite like leather: heavy, musky, I could almost taste the quality of the hide on my tongue.

Thursday, November 06, 2014

Signing, selling, reading and doing panels.
Countdown to Bent-Con! Burbank Marriott Nov. 7th-9th
Countdown to Bent Con!
It won’t be long now! It’s almost time to head out to Bent Con in Los Angeles, and the Inkslingers are getting ready to bring you their best dirty, sexy, queer books. We’ll have a large booth in the exhibition hall, and most of our authors will also be doing readings, signings and panels. At our booth, we have some fantastic show only discounts that you won’t want to miss. There are QR code coupons that can save you between 25%-50% on certain ebook purchases. There are also some special deals on print copies, and the authors will be available at varying times to sign one for you. Plus – we have goodies! Yup, lots of fun, free SWAG and your chance to win prizes from our prize wheel. Stop on by!
Here’s the list of Inkslinger attending authors:
Marlyn Balala
James Buchanan
Poppy Dennison
Kim Fielding
Rhys Ford
LE Franks
Ginn Hale
Lou Harper
Jordan L. Hawk
Rafe Haze
Venona Keyes
Morticia Knight
ZA Maxfield
Belinda McBride
Jet Mykles
Lou Sylvre
Marshall Thornton
Piper Vaughn
Here’s the schedule of where you can find the Inkslingers at any given time:
http://schedule2014.bent-con.org/tag/Inkslingers#.VFoF5snVdc4
And here’s the home page to the overall event:
http://bent-con.org/

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Laying Ghosts is a many-layered story. There's a mystery to be solved, as well as a lot of family drama and relationship changes and growth for Joe and Kabe. Joe is a wonderful first-person narrator. He comes across as a bit of a redneck and sometimes a bit too stuck on the rules, but inside he's much more. He's a sharp investigator, a loyal lover, son, and brother, and much more emotional than his tough exterior would reveal.

Monday, June 03, 2013

I’m going to start to blog about the attempts to maintain a self sustainable lifestyle in an urban setting which we regularly engage in to varying levels of success. I’ll sort them under the category “urban survivalist,” so if you don’t want to hear about this that’s the category you should unsubscribe.

Cheese. We love it, the fresher the better. My guy, SG, has been online looking at Mozzarella making…because he makes homemade pizza (deep and thin — daymn good). So he found a recipe, went to the not quite local beer/wine/cheese making shop in Van Nuys, and got citric acid and rennit tabs (’cause killing a calf and rendering down the stomach lining is not going to happen in the middle of Pasadena). 1gallon of whole milk…from the organic grocer so that it’s pasteurized, but not ultra-pasteurized, and hormone free. About $4, US.

Yeah, do the recipe and that gives us two fist size balls of what I would call a solid farmer’s cheese. I can buy 3x as much at Costo for less. And the result is more akin to a mild feta or firm ricotta than anything resembling mozzarella. Good taste, mind you, Princess loves it (and I love anything that will get her to consume dairy) and it’s decent crumbled over a light salad, but it’s not the texture of fresh mozzarella that I’m used to.

I like to know the process of a hot milk cheese. There are obviously magical, mojo, shaking rattle steps over the pot elements that the “oh so simple” recipes we’ve found leave out. Those, apparently, are critical to cheese making.

This I’ll chalk up to a not quite fail, since we got something edible out of it.